They loved to watch us UNREP, since they never were very good at it, and we practiced it all the time, allowing us to stay at sea continuously, for months at a time. They were usually close to their home ports, or between ports, sleek gray destroyers not to different from our own. One trick they would pull on us was to wait until we were hooked up with another ship, fuel hoses and cargo highlines rigged, and then they would quickly maneuver to our starboard and cut across our bows with the right-of-way, forcing us to an emergency breakaway.

Our skipper got so fed up that he rehearsed a change-of-course with our supply ships, allowing us to maneuver away from a collision while still hooked up to our UNREP ship, transferring beans, bombs and bunker oil. It blew the Russkis away, they couldn't travel in a straight line and UNREP 50 yards apart, we could change course and do it. In a gale. They took pictures and saluted us, and moved on.

But they were good. We couldn't sneak past their pickets and their patrols always found us. And in our simulated actions they held their own even though they were always outnumbered. They took advantage of our exercises to polish up their training, too. We played cat and mouse with them for a month southeast of Iceland, in November, in some of the worst weather I'd ever seen, pretending we were invading Norway, while they pretended to defend it. And we both respected each other. I worked on the bridge, so I had a front row seat at the 50 yard line.

It was my last cruise before my discharge; and it was one of the most exciting times of my life.